This is a song about the abortion of unborn children. I wrote it partly protest against an entire industry, fueled by human fear, unbelief, and greed, that exists to cruelly destroy the most helpless members of our society. It's also my personal attempt to somehow express a great load of grief that I feel over the loss of each of these little ones. May the Lord remember them.
This is by far the hardest song I've written; it's an attempt to capture so many thoughts and feelings that are hardly expressible. It was a weight that I couldn't get off of my chest until I finished it; I had a sense of urgency about it that pushed me through some very exhausting moments.
The tune comes from an old, old folk song called Geordie.
By: Andrew Romanowitz
If I could sing for you my song
Some angel's tongue to borrow,
I'd sing for you the whole night long,
Sweet baby of my sorrow
For you were just a mother's child,
As fair as any other;
A friend to me you might have been,
If only to your mother
But he who tore the threads of life
That God's own hand was weaving,
He took his pay and washed his knife,
Nor for his crime was grieving
Oh, life is sweet when love is kind,
But they did not revere it;
The ground in grief and anger cried,
But heav'n alone would hear it
Too small to run, too weak to fight,
Too young to know a warning,
Like thieves they caught you in the night,
And stole away the morning
Who could conceive this dark design?
My heart, it fails within me;
I wish to God you had been mine,
If one among so many
Then sleep in silence, little one,
The morn was nearly breaking;
But cruel hands put out the sun,
And never you'll be waking